


Like Whiskey You've Swallowed By Mistake

by oneforyourfire



Series: Suho Birthday Sextravaganza [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: “Leader,” he drawls. “Fuck me,” he advises (aka post playboy dance w/ suho gasping hyung a lot and being overwhelmed a bunch au)





	Like Whiskey You've Swallowed By Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: thigh-fucking, hyung kink?, leader kink?, suho getting all soft for his only exo hyung
> 
>  
> 
> [play (boy) play (boy) play (boy)~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXvhnlePPxc)

Joonmyun is dazed, dizzy, on the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, the thrum of bassline still rattling through his body, the phantom, heated, aching slide of Minseok’s hands along his back, his waist. The current glide of his hands, too, slower and much more appraising and much more disconcerting—now that they’re alone, now that this is for nobody else. His fingertips skim over Joonmyun’s cheekbones, his parted lips. They’re so small, feel so fucking grounding.

And he can’t help how ruined and rasped his voice sounds as he moans for Minseok hyung to please just—please he needs to—

Can’t help his tremor, either.

“Leader,” Minseok hums, knowing already—knowing how Joonmyun always just—

His hands slide down, around the nape of Joonmyun’s neck, thumbs looping around Joonmyun’s throat. His fingernails graze Joonmyun’s Adam’s pple. The sting makes him gasp, makes him bumble forward even more.

Minseok’s just a hair’s breadth shorter than him, looks even smaller though as he tips his head back, tilts his body upwards in offering or in challenge.

“Leader,” he drawls. “Fuck me,” he advises.

And Joonmyun is also dazed, dizzy on Minseok’s words, the dark gleam in his eyes, the sharp glint of his teeth, the painful plushness of his bitten bottom lip

Dazed. Dizzy. Desperate, too. 

The shadows stand harsh against the sharp cut of his jawline, the harsh cut of his eyes, and small, slight, delicate as he looks, he's dangerous. Joonmyun wants to scrape himself raw on all his hard edges, wants to burn himself alive on his heat.

“Yeah?” he manages.

“Yes, leader. Fuck me, leader.” His tongue curls around the last syllable, fingers curl around Joonmyun’s shoulders.

“Want you,” Joonmyun confesses.

And Joonmyun is also dazed, dizzy on the way his back arches, pressing him closer, closer, closer, how breathy his laugh is. “I’m right here, Joonmyun,” he says. “Have me.”

An offering or challenge again, and Joonmyun watches the white fabric pool around Minseok’s sides as he slides his hands over Minseok’s smooth, soft skin. There’s a hardness there that hadn’t been there when they’d first met, a solidity that makes Joonmyun’s mouth feel dry.

“Leader,” he repeats as Joonmyun’s fingers stumble over the buttons then his skin then the tent of his erection. “Come on, leader.”

His voice is tight, tighter yet the pants he’s still wearing. Joonmyun can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric, the tremble as he fans his fingers apart, _presses_.

“Have me,” he repeats, and his hips surge into the pressure as Joonmyun cups him. His cock pulses in his grip.

“Leader. Joonmyunnie.”

His eyes lose their sharpness, haze over with arousal as Joonmyun touches him, slow, appraising, briefly, briefly, briefly in control. Desire, electric and hot, races up his spine, twists with the heady punch of power, burns hot through his veins.

Minseok tips his head further back, moans in encouragement.

“Hyung,” he rasps, stroking, and Minseok’s lips part with a moan. Joonmyun isn’t his only his dongsaeng—isn’t even his _favorite_ —but Minseok is his only hyung, his favorite by default, the only one that stayed, the only one that hadn’t—

Joonmyun squeezes, drags the heel of his palm over the head of Minseok’s cock just to make him moan—again and louder and more ruined, just just just to chase the thought away.

“Hyung,” he repeats, and it sounds too much like a prayer. But he can’t help the reverence in his tone.

“Fuck me,” Minseok repeats.

But they don’t. Can’t. Not right now. Not like this.

Joonmyun’s fingers shift instead, yank instead, bare instead, stroke—deliberate and directly skin to skin—instead.

And Minseok’s jaw slackens.

He tips upwards to drag the outline of his cock against Minseok’s, knowing it must be too much, too much, knowing that Minseok fucking loves it, loves it best like this , knowing also that Joonmyun is always too dazed and dizzy and desperate to give it to him any other way.

Pinning him with his hips, holding him there even as and gasps into his throat, Joonmyun gives. MInseok does, too, grinding forward, too, his small fingers twisting in his hair.He bites his throat hard enough to sing. Not to mark, not to claim.

Not his only. Not even his favorite.

Joonmyun tips forward to watch, groaning helplessly at the precome pearling on the flushed tip of his cock, the goosebumps rippling on the strong, pale, pale column of his thighs

He grips his waist, hefts him higher, muscles straining,and Minseok rocks down, tosses his head back as he clenches his eyes with pleasure.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And even if he wasn’t the only one, Joonmyun thinks, Minseok would still be Joonmyun’s favorite. Too perfect, perfect, perfect to not be. He twists his fingers tight enough for Joonmyun’s entire body to jerk forward, for Joonmyun to let out the most ragged helpless moan.

Dazed, dizzy, desperate, drunk, drunk, drunk on the heat of his skin, the pulse of his cock, the ragged ruin of his breath, the tremble of his thighs.

His favorite still. Favorite for this and so much more.

“Turn me around,” Minseok rasps, biting back a gasp when Joonmyun drags his teeth over his nipple, swirls his tongue to watch him tremble. “Come on, get to work.”

Clumsy and unceremonious and inelegant, he does, and Minseok’s hands clap against the wall, back arches in the most graceful curve. “Joonmyunnie,” he drawls. “My lovely, lovely leader, fuck me come on.”

Joonmyun tugs off his pants, his underwear, clumsy and unceremonious and inelegant but also dazed and also dizzy and also desperate and also so painfully, painfully lovestruck.

“Leader,” he moans when Joonmyun’s bare cock drags over the swell of his ass, then the crease of it. “Joonmyun. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joonmyun.”

Joonmyun twists his hips, slots his cock between Minseok’s thighs. He rocks forward, whimpers and shakes as Minseok’s skin drags hot and throbbing against his cock.

His forehead bumps against Minseok’s shoulder blades, and he bites on the skin there, shifts his hands to drag Minseok higher, harder, fucking him harder, too.

It's too dry, too rushed, the friction nearly painful, but Minseok’s entire body trembles with the most ragged, most gratifying moan. His fingers tense, voice breaks, shoulders tremble, thighs shake, clench, clench, clench.

"Leader," he chants. "Leader. Leader. Joonmyunnie."

Joonmyun pushes that much harder, that much more deeper, even dryer, more rushed, painful, painful, painful, desire a resounding echo of _more, more, more_. The fingers of one hand stumble towards Minseok’s cock, the others towards his scalp, tugging him back against his shoulder, grinding, grinding, grinding all the while. And Minseok’s moan is even richer, breathy and as close to ruined as Minseok ever gets. His cock throbs, jerks against his. 

_Fuck fuck fuck_. 

He goes completely limp when he comes, and Joonmyun has to wind his arm around his waist to keep him upright.

Mindless, mindless, mindless with pleasure, with want,, so shakily overcome, Joonmyun drops sloppy, wet, wet kisses on the nape of his neck, grinds against him more heavily, more needily, more insistent and more helpless. Dazed, dizzy, desperate.

“Hyung,” he says, choking on a moan when Minseok’s thighs clench just _so_. “Fuck— _hyung_."

Minseok tips back, head sliding over Joonmyun’s shoulder, lips and teeth aimless and hot as they graze his jawline, his throat.

“Leader,” he repeats, all breathy and coarse with satiation. And Joonmyun can't help but follow the silent command, coming messily in a breathless rush of “hyung, hyung, hyung.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1/11
> 
> "dance"


End file.
